Auld Lang Syne
by Animaltalker
Summary: A Good Samaritan is nearly killed trying to save a navy officer from a serial rapist, investigating the identity of this Good Samaritan will change one team member's life. Chapter 4 is up Tony and Ziva interview John Doe Good Samaritan
1. Chapter 1

"So Abby, what have you got for me," Gibbs asked as he handed her a Caf Pow. McGee followed Gibbs into the lab and wandered over toward the computer station.

"Well, the knife that was taken out of John Doe Good Samaritan had three different samples of blood. I'm trying to get DNA matches on the two that don't belong to the victim, by running them through the various data bases we have access to," she answered.

"Abby, you know we aren't suppose to be running John Doe's DNA, don't you?" Ducky scolded gently as he entered the lab from the other entrance.

Abby whirled around to face Ducky and answered, "Of course I do, but wouldn't it be nice, if when John Doe wakes up"-

"If he wakes up," McGee interrupted and Abby scowled at him.

"When he wakes up," Abby continued, "it would be nice if he had some family there for him," she finished her thought just as her computer dinged.

Abby and McGee crowded around the computer and then looked at each other in shock.

"What is it, Abby? Have you got an identification of the rapist?" Gibbs asked.

"No," she answered, but didn't volunteer more information.

"Abby!" Gibbs snapped at her.

"No, it's on our Good Samaritan," she answered.

"Then you've got an identification?" Ducky asked.

Abby looked down, not answering.

"No, it's only a partial match," McGee answered for her.

"Then you've got a family member," Ducky reasoned. "A parent or sibling?"

"A male relative, the match includes the same Y chromosome," Abby said still not meeting Ducky's eyes.

"Well who is the DNA match from, Abby?" Gibbs with ever growing irritation demanded to know.

Abby finally looked Ducky in the eyes. "Donald Mallard."

"What?" Ducky asked stunned.

"I think congratulations might be in order Ducky. I mean, I think our John Doe Good Samaritan is your son," Abby said hesitantly.

"Think again Abby. I haven't got a son!" Ducky protested.

"That you know of," suggested Gibbs, his irritation with Abby evaporating to be replaced with bemusement over his friends predicament

.

Ducky glared at Gibbs for a moment, then tipped his head to the side, not quite a nod of ascension but not a flat denial either, more a willingness to admit to a possibility.

"You're sure there wasn't some sort of contamination at the scene?" Ducky asked Abby.

"Ducky!" Abby said affronted.

"Yes, yes I know, you don't make that sort of mistake, but then neither do I," Ducky said.

"What?" McGee asked, wondering if Ducky meant what he thought he meant.

"I mean I've never been one to be careless with my DNA," Ducky clarified.

"Come on Ducky, every guy's been careless now and then, just usually the guy gets lucky and the girl doesn't get pregnant," Gibbs countered.

"Yeah Ducky, you just must have gotten unlucky but she decided not to bust your chops for it," McGee added.

"Bust his chops?" Ziva asked as she entered the lab. "Does that not mean to punish someone? Why would anyone want to punish Ducky?" Ziva sounded both confused and defensive.

"You explain it to her, I've got to go to the hospital. Seems I've got some Family Leave Time coming," Ducky said and headed out of the lab and back to autopsy to collect his hat and coat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note**: Here's a bit more, but remember a fan fic writers only pay is readers reviews, and I'm only writing this because I'm blocked on another story of mine. So if I don't get any reviews, perhaps I'll conclude no ones interested in a Ducky centric story and just not bother continuing with this. (Sorry I hate to whine like that.)

Although Ducky hadn't been to the crime scene, because there were no deaths this time, thanks to John Doe Good Samaritan, his putative son; he did know where the victim and her erstwhile rescuer had been taken. The victim was a sailor so she was taken to Bethesda Naval Hospital and so was John Doe, so that's where Ducky would go.

As he climbed into his Morgan he wondered about his son, the Good Samaritan. He didn't know much about the young man. He had grabbed a file off of Tony's desk as he prepared to leave, and had leafed through it as he left the office. By the team's estimation John Doe was as old or perhaps a little older than Tony, making him mid to late 30s. They described him as having blond hair, being of average height and build, in good physical condition and being dressed for a run or other sort of workout.

Ducky cast his mind back to the late sixties and early seventies, not a time he was that fond of remembering. He'd finished his residency and joined the Royal Marines only to find himself in the middle of The Troubles. He thought being a doctor in the Royal Marines would be an exciting, albeit sometimes gruesome career. Gruesome didn't quite cover working on the victims of car and bus bombings in Belfast and Derry. Especially the children, he couldn't handle that in the detached manner he was supposed to do. He found he could handle everything except the pain and suffering of the victims, not exactly a good thing to learn after all those years of medical training, that one was too tenderhearted to stand the real work. He knew he'd have to switch to some specialty were he didn't have to see the suffering, but he hadn't fancied being a dermatologist or some other safe profession, he'd thought for awhile on surgery, but finally he'd known his fascination with puzzles, with mysteries, suited him for forensic pathology. Perhaps his time in Northern Ireland had been for the best after all.

He found that he somehow had driven on autopilot to the hospital while musing on the past, he pulled into the area reserved for doctors and tucked his Morgan in next to a Porsche. Ducky grabbed his lab coat and headed into the hospital, flashing his NCIS badge at the security guard. When he reached the bank of elevators he suddenly realized he didn't know where "his boy" was. He went back toward an admitting clerk.

"Darling, I'm sorry to bother you, but I've been called in on a consult and I've forgotten what room they said the patient's in," he pored on his considerable charm on the middle age woman working the desk.

"What's the patient's name, doctor?" she asked.

"Well they don't know. He was brought in unconscious with the latest rape victim. I think they're calling him John Doe Good Samaritan," Ducky told her and hoped she wouldn't get suspicious.

"Oh yes, the hero," she answered then consulted her computer records for a moment, "he's in 607, doctor" she drew out his title fishing for a name.

"Gibbs," Ducky replied with a smile and headed for the elevator.

He walked with purpose to the nurse's station, thumbed through the charts until he found John Doe's and then he headed to room 607. No one stopped him or questioned him. Well why would they? He was a doctor checking on a patient.

Ducky opened the door as quietly as he could and looked in on the room's occupant. Until that moment he'd been reluctant to believe Abby was right, that he had a son, but lying there in the bed, bandaged and with double hung IVs was his spitting image. It was like looking in some strange mirror that showed him himself 30 years younger. Now, if only he could imagine whom the boy's, well, man's mother was.

Just then the young man groaned and then his eyes fluttered open. Ducky found himself staring into a pair of green eyes, green eyes he'd known so well and thought he'd never see again.

"Siobhan," Ducky whispered, suddenly knowing the identity of the mother of his son.

He found he was unable able to fathom it. He shook his head and bolted from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well," Ziva said, "is someone going to explain to me why someone would want to 'bust Ducky's chops?"

"Before anyone does, where's your partner?" Gibbs asked.

"He went to make a phone call, he said he'd be right down."

"Speak of the devil," Abby said as Tony came through the door to the lab.

"Good now we can make this explanation just once," Gibbs started, and then looked at Abby and then back at Ziva.

"Ziva, the reason someone might want to bust Ducky's chops is it looks like he got a woman pregnant but didn't marry her," Gibbs explained.

"Ducky? That doesn't sound right," Tony observed.

"No, it does not. Why are you saying this?" Ziva demanded to know.

"Because our John Doe Good Samaritan has the same y-chromosome that Ducky has," Abby answered.

"So you're saying John Doe is Ducky's son?" Tony asked.

Gibbs and Abby both nodded, McGee said, "Yeah, that's what we're saying."

"He must not have been aware that he had fathered this young man," Ziva said with certainty.

"That's what were thinking, too," McGee said.

""Ducky must have very different taste in women than most men," Tony observed.

Ziva and Abby shot Tony looks.

"I'm sure Ducky's son's mother was as intelligent and caring as she was beautiful," said Abby.

"People, as much as I'm sure you'd all just love to dissect Ducky's past love life, we've got a serial rapist and murderer to catch. So back to work," Gibbs paused a moment. "Now!" he said more emphatically and reached out to slap Tony upside the head as he passed.

Before he left Abby's lab he stopped and spoke softly to her, "Don't worry Abs, we'll all stand by Ducky on this."

Dr Donald "Ducky" Mallard was sent careening by the sight of his son's green eyes, Siobhan's green eyes. He had to get away and think. He left the room and walked past the nurses' station, dropping off the chart. He didn't even hear the nurse's comments. He felt like he couldn't breath. His thoughts rushed round in his mind so fast he couldn't get a hold of any one of them. Eventually he found himself beside the Morgan, trying to decide where to go. Not home, he couldn't deal with his mother. He'd call the nurse's aid that stayed with her nowadays and ask her to stay late or to call someone else out who could. Yes, that would leave him free to go somewhere and think.

Ducky had just finished his phone call to the nurse's aid when a car pulled up and blocked in his car. At first he was startled but then he recognized the car as belonging to Gibbs.

"So, you see your boy?" Gibbs asked as he approached Ducky.

"Yes," Ducky answered without his usually elaborations, and Gibbs wondered if that meant more than just that he'd seen the young man. Did that yes also mean Ducky believed John Doe to be his son?

"You want to go somewhere and talk?" Gibbs offered.

Ducky seemed uncharacteristically uncertain of himself and at a loss for words. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down and then scuffed the toe of his right shoe across the pavement.

"I guess so," he answered reluctantly, "but nowhere public," he added quickly.

"How about you follow me to my place," Gibbs suggested.

"Alright that sounds fine," Ducky answered, starting to sound a bit more like himself.

Ducky followed Jethro down the familiar stairs to his workshop basement to where the ever present boat in progress stood. He waited patiently while his friend got out two glasses and the bottle of sipping whiskey.

As Gibbs passed Ducky a glass of the amber colored liquor, he asked the key question, "So, is he your son?"

Ducky swallowed some of the whiskey before answering, relishing the way it burned down his throat.

"Aye, there's no denying it. Save for his mother's green eyes his my spitting image," he answered, his brogue starting to strengthen.

"You saw his eyes," Gibbs said as half a statement and half a question.

"Aye, he woke up and looked at me," Ducky answered and then downed the rest of his whiskey. He reached for the bottle to pour himself another drink; Gibbs gave him a concerned glance.

"Did you talk to him?"

Ducky shook his head. "No, I bolted from the room as soon as I saw his eyes," he answered. He drank down his whiskey and then looked at Gibbs.

"They were her eyes, Siobhan's eyes, but they can't be. I just don't understand," Ducky answered and then sat down cradling the empty glass of whiskey in his hands.

Gibbs was worried, he'd never seen Ducky quite so uncertain like this, almost unhinged, and he'd seen Ducky in some pretty difficult circumstances. All he could think to do was to keep him talking.

"Who was Siobhan?" Gibbs asked gently, filling Ducky's glass again.

"The first and only woman I ever truly loved," Ducky answered his voice thickening with emotion. He paused for a moment and Gibbs was about to prompt him with another question, but suddenly Ducky began to pour forth his heart.

"She had strawberry blond hair and emerald green eyes and her skin was like peaches and cream. Her voice was soft and musical and her laughter was like a babbling brook. She'd smile at me and I'd forget that I'd been ankle deep in blood in an ER trying to patch together bodies torn apart by terrorists' bombs. We were an unlikely couple, a Scottish doctor in the English army and a beautiful Irish nurse in the midst of The Troubles," Ducky paused, finished his third whiskey and then held his glass out to Gibbs for more. Gibbs hesitated in filling Ducky's glass up again, as he'd never seen his friend drink so much so quickly.

"Come on man, fill up my glass," Ducky demanded. "If I've got to talk about this, I'm not doing it sober."

"She must have really hurt you," Gibbs said trying to sympathize with his friend.

"NO!" Ducky replied vehemently. "Yes, I don't know."

Ducky looked at Gibbs, confusion etched on his still handsome face. "How could he be my son by Siobhan, when she died all those years ago?"

"You thought she was dead? How?" Gibbs asked now joingng in Ducky's confusion.

"A bombing, it happened while I was away. I had returned to Edinburgh, my father was ill. When I got back she wasn't at our flat. I went to the hospital we worked at and one of the other nurses told me she'd been reported killed in a bombing. I didn't want to believe it but one of the soldiers in my unit confirmed it for me. I hadn't been notified because we weren't married or engaged, just living together and hardly anyone knew about us."

Ducky took a few deep breaths, drained the whiskey in his glass and then turned to Gibbs and asked, "If she didn't die in that bombing, where was she?" Ducky's was becoming more agitated with each word he spoke.

"And if she was pregnant with my child, why didn't she tell me? She said she loved me! She wanted us to be together forever! Well, forever lasted about six bloody months!"

Ducky threw his whiskey glass at the wall and then sunk down on the floor, burying his head in his hands. He began ever so slightly rocking back and forth.

Gibbs put a hand on his friend's shoulder and said, "I wish I had some answers for you Ducky. I really do."


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs talked Ducky into staying at his place, convincing him that he'd had too much to drink to get behind the wheel. He then called DiNozzo and found the senior field agent was still at NCIS headquarters, as were his other agents and Abby. Apparently no one wanted to head home until the puzzle surrounding their M.E. and friend was solved. While Jethro wanted answers to Ducky's dilemma, they still had a case to solve so he ordered Tony and Ziva over to Bethesda Naval Hospital to interview "Ducky Jr."

Tony and Ziva discussed what little Gibbs had added to their knowledge of the situation on the drive over. Tony finally declared it "just plain weird" that they were about to interview Ducky's son.

"Well, at least he is a witness to the crime and not a suspect," Ziva pointed out.

"Yeah, well there is that," Tony agreed as he pulled the car into the hospital's visitor's parking lot.

Tony and Ziva asked for the location of John Doe Samaritan's room and headed down the corridor, Tony pushing the door open to allow his partner in.

"Hello, I'm Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo and this is my partner Ziva David, if you're feeling up to it, we've got a few questions for you," Tony started out genially, after noting that John Doe was awake.

Ziva was trying hard not to stare at the man who was very much a younger version of Ducky save the color of his eyes.

"Sure thing, I'd be glad to help," their witness replied in an Irish brogue, as he struggled to sit up.

"Aw, let me help you there," Tony said, trying to help the other man up. Once he and Ziva had John Doe in a more comfortable position, Tony started out with questions. "First thing we need to know is your name."

"O'Brien, Donald O'Brien, everyone calls me Donnie," he replied, not noticing the looks Tony and Ziva gave each other on hearing his first name.

"Well Donnie, that accent of yours sounds authentic. Are you from Ireland?" Ziva asked.

"Aye, I grew up in Belfast, but I've lived in quite a few different places." Donnie answered. "By the by, you don't sound very American either Agent David."

Ziva smiled, "Israeli." Donnie nodded.

"And what were you doing near the Naval base?" Tony asked.

"I was just out for my morning run, I usually run about 10 miles of a morning. Anyway, I hear that young lass a-hollering and so I hopped the fence to go to her aid," he explained.

"That was a six foot chain link fence with barb wire at the top," Tony observed, the fact that he was impressed by Donnie's nonchalant description of going over the fence as "hopping" it, obvious in his voice.

"Aye, it was a bit like our academy's obstacle course. Anyway, I see this fellow attacking the young woman, I yelled at him as soon as I got clear of the fence. I figured he'd run, but he stood his ground and got his knife up ready for a fight. I could see he'd been in knife fights before, the way he held himself and the blade," Donnie stopped for a second, seeming a bit tired.

"What about you Donnie, you ever been in a knife fight before?" Tony asked.

"Not really, I mean they trained us for it, but that was the first time I ever used my training, guess I was a little sloppy" Donnie replied looking down toward his wound.

"Training?" Ziva asked.

"Oh I'm Garda Siochåna, Irish National Police," he answered.

"Oh well, we're practically brothers then," Tony said with a smile.

"I guess so," Donnie said with a grimace.

"Are you in pain?" Ziva asked.

"A little," Donnie admitted.

"I will get the nurse," Ziva said as she left the room.

"Bonnie partner you've got there," Donnie observed with a tilt of his head toward the door Ziva had just gone through.

"Yeah," Tony agreed, but pressed on with the questioning, "look Donnie, did you get much of a look at the guy who attacked you and the girl?"

"No, unfortunately he had on a ski mask. Can't tell you much about him except height, weight and skin color.

"Which were?" Tony prompted.

"Feet and pounds here in America, right?" Donnie asked. Tony nodded.

"Well, he was a fair bit taller than me. I'd say six foot and maybe eleven stone six," Donnie answered.

At Tony's puzzled look Donnie added, "Oh uh, I mean about 160 pounds, and he was Caucasian, but tanned."

"Not bad, catch a hair or eye color?" Tony asked.

Just then an attractive young redheaded nurse and Ziva entered.

"Ms. David says you're experiencing some pain, Mr. O'Brien is it?" Donnie nodded.

"Aye, but you can call me Donnie," he added with a smile.

"I'm going to give you something for your pain, and now that we've got you awake and a name for you, is there someone we should contact for you?" the nurse asked as she added something to his IV.

"Not on this side of the puddle. Actually, you could do me a favor though," Donnie paused.

"Of course, what would you like?" the nurse asked.

"Your phone number," Donnie said with a smile.

Tony caught Ziva's eye and a silent agreement went between them that Donnie was a charmer with the ladies just like his old man.

The nurse rolled her eyes and very slightly shook her head no. "We really should notify your next of kin, even if that person is not here in the states."

"Oh, alright if you contact the home office of the Irish National Police and tell them Donnie O'Brien was injured, they'll contact me mum."

"Alright, I'll see that the call is made," she told her patient.

"Don't keep the hero too long now, what he really needs is rest," she told Tony and Ziva as she left.

Tony waited for the nurse to leave.

"Just a couple more questions before we leave," Tony added. "What were you doing here in Bethesda?"

"Well, I came for a training and stayed on personal business," Donnie answered.

"What sort of training?" Ziva asked.

"Anti-terrorist," Donnie answered.

"Where were you taking the training?" Tony asked.

"I wasn't taking it," he answered with a note of amusement in his voice. "I was teaching it. I AM from Northern Ireland, Tony. I was born in the height of The Troubles," Donnie answered with a sleepy smile.

"So who were you teaching?" Tony pressed.

"MPs and LEOs from the States, Navy was hosting," Donnie answered sluggishly. It was obvious Donnie was about to succumb to the pain medication.

"And the personal business?" Ziva pushed sensing that they might be getting to something very important and wanting to get to it before Donnie fell asleep.

"I've been trying to get up the nerve to visit me Da," Donnie answered, visibly trying to rouse himself.

"Your Da?" Tony asked.

"Father." Ziva said translating for Tony. Tony shot her a look, which seemed to say he knew that already.

"Mmm, he works here in Bethesda," Donnie looked at the two NCIS agents, focusing much more clearly than he had a moment ago. "Hey, maybe you two know him? He's a doctor, a medical examiner, his name's Donald Mallard," he looked hopefully at Tony and Ziva.

"Y-Yes, we do know Dr. Mallard, but he has never said anything about having a son," Ziva replied not wanting to reveal too much.

"No, no he would not know me," Donnie said softly and sadly.

"I'm sorry mates, but that pain med has me knackered, can we finish this another time?" Donnie asked.

"Sure," Tony said and patted the other man on the arm. "We'll drop by tomorrow morning. You get a good night's rest."

When they left the room Ziva said, "He was more upset than tired."

"Yuh think?" Tony said, imitating their boss. "Come on let's take what little we know back to the boss."

"And to Ducky?" Ziva asked.

"Maybe, let's see what the boss thinks, first."


End file.
